


A Better Version Of Me.

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Introspection, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, One-Sided Attraction, POV Chris Argent, POV Second Person, Protective Chris Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He is a brightly lit version of yourself, and he walks through the supernatural world you have been trained to kill, shadowed by the monster he calls friend, the monsters he defends and you wish you were  brave enough to be like him.





	A Better Version Of Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so.   
> Chris. I adore Chris Argent. And this is just my rambling about him. Enjoy. <3

You think it would be easy, to hate Stiles. 

He is loud and sarcastic, a spastic cocky little shit with a confidence that borders on arrogance and no self-preservation. 

He is a human boy who walks at an alpha’s side and glares at you, and you want to hate him. 

You see too much of yourself, in those damn golden eyes. 

~*~ 

You married for duty, an order in a long list of them, one more thing you were never allowed to choose. 

You married because women led the clan and Victoria Sokolov was the strongest woman you’d ever met, the strongest hunter you’d ever met. 

She didn’t love you. For a long time, she didn’t even  _ like _ you. But she married you when her failing clan demanded it and led the Argents the way your father wanted, and she let you fuck her, until she came to you, quiet and pale, and her lips trembled--the first time you saw her tremble--when she said, “I’m pregnant.” 

~*~ 

Allison was every good thing you’ve never done, every good thing you want to do, and when Victoria holds her, you see not the woman you were ordered to marry, not the cold-hearted woman who controls your family--you see your daughter’s mother, your partner, and you have hope. 

~*~ 

Stiles doesn’t love for duty. 

He  _ loves _ . 

You’ve seen it, the way that he gives himself the people he loves, the way he loves with a reckless wildness that terrifies you. You see it in the way his expression goes terrified and hurt when he sees Derek gasping in the dirt of La Iglesia, have seen it in the way he throws himself into danger for Scott or Lydia. 

Stiles loves because he can’t  _ not.  _ Because it is written into his bones, because he has  _ chosen  _ these people and when he chooses something, he does it with every fiber of his being. 

Devotion like that-- _ love  _ like that--terrifies you. 

You want to love like that, and you’re terrified to love like that. 

~*~ 

You watch him. 

It makes Derek angry and he’s oblivious to it, accepting the way the Alpha dotes on him, crowding into his space, as his due, pushing him aside with an impatient air when he’s drawn into conversation or research. 

You watch him and Derek watches you, and you want to tell  him that he doesn't need to. That some things are too perfect to hurt with your touch. 

~*~

You think he is everything you could have been, if your life had not been twisted so early. 

He is a son devoted to his father, a loyal brother, a partner worthy of the one he loves. 

He is everything you wish you could be and it makes you  _ ache, _ watching him. 

~*~ 

He loves Scott. He loves Scott with the kind of mindless devotion you gave Kate, once--that Kate gave you, once. 

You remember a time, after your mother died, after your uncle died, when your father was lost in grief and rage, when you were the shield that stood between Kate and the world. 

You remember hearing your mother whisper,  _ you are our voice, sweet Kate. And your brother will be your sword arm.  _

That is who you were. That is who you were born to be. The gun in Kate’s hand, the one she would listen to, lean on, the two that would lead your proud family. 

You don’t know when that changed. Maybe when you married Victoria, and your father chose her to be the matriarch of the family. 

Maybe when you saw her, bent over a female ‘wolf, pregnant belly slit open and bleeding, a smile on Kate’s face that you didn’t recognize, that made you colder than you had been, facing rabid wolves. 

You don’t know when your loyalty shifted away from your sister--maybe it was the first time she smiled that shark smile at Allison and you felt a thrill of fear and  _ threat.  _

~*~ 

Stiles doesn’t trust Scott blindly. 

He challenges him, you know that. You heard Scott bitch about it to Allison--but even when they disagreed,  Stiles loved his brother. 

And you don’t know how he balances that and the deep disagreements. 

When Argents disagree, it ends in blood and dead bodies.

~*~ 

They fight sometimes, Derek and Stiles. 

They fight a lot. 

It baffles you. You agreed with Victoria, always. Even when you didn’t, you bit your tongue and obeyed, because she was the leader of the clan, was your  _ wife _ , and you respected her. 

Even when you didn’t love her, could never  _ love  _ her, you respected her. 

The first time you see it, Derek is glaring, fangs out, eyes glowing and you’re reaching for your gun before you can process that his back is to the wall, and  _ Stiles _ is holding him there with one hand splayed over  his chest, shouting at him. 

You don’t  _ understand.  _

Because they fight like cats and dogs, vicious and cutting and nothing seems safe, when they do. 

Stiles’ parents. Derek’s family and history with Kate. Those are very carefully avoided, even when screaming at each other. 

They fight and sometimes, the pack runs, leaves them to fuck or fight it out, and you--

It fascinates you. Because even when they’re fighting, even when Stiles is shouting imprecations and Derek is snarling threats, they are touching. 

Stiles is reaching for him, touching him, winding Derek around himself, grounding them both in each other’s presence. 

You never fought with Victoria and you think that you were terrified, to fight like this, because what you had with her, fragile and built on things beyond your home, beyond your bed--it wasn’t strong enough to withstand this kind of storm of fury and love. 

They are a storm of fury and love, and sometimes you think it’s because Stiles doesn’t know any other way to be. 

~*~ 

You see him with his father, sometimes. Rarely, because Stiles guards his father with a jealousness that you recognize--it’s how you guarded Allison. But sometimes, you see them, and see the soft warmth and the  _ love _ that makes your hands shake, makes you retreat, curt and short tempered and Stiles watches you with knowing eyes, while Stilinski stares curiously. 

Allison looked at you, once, like that. Before Beacon Hills. 

Before Scott McCall and the werewolves burst into her life, before Gerard. 

Before she died in the arms of a boy you want to hate, killed by a creature Stiles commanded. 

You can’t watch Stiles with his father, because you know what it is, to be loved like that, and it’s a wound that hasn’t healed, can’t heal--losing Victoria is a faint, healed over scar, that aches when the weather turns. 

Allison is a gaping wound that bleeds with every breath and tiny movement. 

~*~ 

You pressed him into a door and could feel his heartbeat, too quick, a scared drumbeat, but he was furious. He was defiant. 

He was defending  _ werewolves _ and you knew, right then, that this boy was special. 

That human or not, he was  _ special _ and that you would always stand on the wrong side of him. 

You regretted it, even then, as he snarled about your sister and defended a monster, and every fiber of him shook with righteous indignation, with  _ outrage _ and fury on the behalf of  _ werewolves.  _

~*~ 

Derek loves him. 

Derek, who is angry and standoffish, who treats all the world like they are fighting him, who trusts nothing and no one, and radiates loneliness,  _ loves _ him. 

And you--

You understand. 

You understand because you think you love him too. 

~*~ 

Once, when you are hunting the Nogitsune, hunting Stiles, with Derek, you think he knows. He looks at you, and his face is washed out, and pale with fear and you wish, for one moment, that you could have something like this--someone who loved you, the way that they love each other. 

~*~ 

Looking back, you don’t know  _ when _ you decided, they were worth protecting. 

That Derek was worth protecting, if for no other reason than Stiles loved him. 

You don’t know when you decided--but as you run through the rain in South America, tracking leads to find the wayward Hale--you know that you did. 

Stiles loves him, in a way that defies logic and your understanding and maybe that is enough. 

~*~ 

You think, he is brilliant. 

Brilliant and loyal and fierce in is love, and dangerous, so dangerous it makes you wary to give him your back, but he is  _ good. _ He is the brother you wished you could have been, the son you wanted to be, the lover you never had a chance to be. 

He is a brightly lit version of yourself, and he walks through the supernatural world you have been trained to kill, shadowed by the monster he calls friend, the monsters he defends and you wish you were  brave enough to be like him.

And you wonder, watching him, if you could be like him. 

If you could be better. 

 


End file.
